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She was stupefied for a moment. “You mean like the tribal wives’ thing on the telly?”

The interviewer laughed. Stan Kramer, he introduced himself, the new head of content for Wildlife knew about the show she referred to.
“We’re not looking for that sanitized version here, Polly. I will be honest. Essentially, we want you to join the tribe, marry the chief,
really live like a tribal wife, adopt all the custom, eat what they eat, do what they do, have a baby, and after your baby is one year old,
we’ll arrange for your exit from the tribe.”

“More like a mail order bride than a surrogate.” The woman suddenly pipped in.

Polly shook her head. “So… Wait… The baby will be conceived how exactly?”

“The natural way of course.” The woman piped in. “Don’t worry, we won’t be recording that part for the documentary, we’re trying to keep
things NC-17 if you will. But you will have to really join the tribe, and the custom.”

Polly was told to open the folder in front of her. There it was, in all its glory, a native woman, red tinted skin, bare breasted, hair
braided in cornrows, wearing a thin loincloth. The brief gave the name of the tribe she was expected to join, the Kumbo. She could see large
hoops on each ear, a septum piercing of gold. “You want me to dress up like that.”

“Or course."

Excerpt..

She was stupefied for a moment. “You mean like the tribal wives’ thing on the telly?”

The interviewer laughed. Stan Kramer, he introduced himself, the new head of content for Wildlife knew about the show she referred to.
“We’re not looking for that sanitized version here, Polly. I will be honest. Essentially, we want you to join the tribe, marry the chief,
really live like a tribal wife, adopt all the custom, eat what they eat, do what they do, have a baby, and after your baby is one year old,
we’ll arrange for your exit from the tribe.”

“More like a mail order bride than a surrogate.” The woman suddenly pipped in.

Polly shook her head. “So… Wait… The baby will be conceived how exactly?”

“The natural way of course.” The woman piped in. “Don’t worry, we won’t be recording that part for the documentary, we’re trying to keep
things NC-17 if you will. But you will have to really join the tribe, and the custom.”

Polly was told to open the folder in front of her. There it was, in all its glory, a native woman, red tinted skin, bare breasted, hair
braided in cornrows, wearing a thin loincloth. The brief gave the name of the tribe she was expected to join, the Kumbo. She could see large
hoops on each ear, a septum piercing of gold. “You want me to dress up like that.”

“Or course."

Excerpt..

She was stupefied for a moment. “You mean like the tribal wives’ thing on the telly?”

The interviewer laughed. Stan Kramer, he introduced himself, the new head of content for Wildlife knew about the show she referred to.

“We’re not looking for that sanitized version here, Polly. I will be honest. Essentially, we want you to join the tribe, marry the chief,

really live like a tribal wife, adopt all the custom, eat what they eat, do what they do, have a baby, and after your baby is one year old,

we’ll arrange for your exit from the tribe.”

“More like a mail order bride than a surrogate.” The woman suddenly pipped in.

Polly shook her head. “So… Wait… The baby will be conceived how exactly?”

“The natural way of course.” The woman piped in. “Don’t worry, we won’t be recording that part for the documentary, we’re trying to keep

things NC-17 if you will. But you will have to really join the tribe, and the custom.”

Polly was told to open the folder in front of her. There it was, in all its glory, a native woman, red tinted skin, bare breasted, hair

braided in cornrows, wearing a thin loincloth. The brief gave the name of the tribe she was expected to join, the Kumbo. She could see large

hoops on each ear, a septum piercing of gold. “You want me to dress up like that.”